Taken by Suprise: Prequel to The Journal of Sara Reid
by ReidWatson
Summary: Spencer Reid receives some surprising news one morning before leaving on a case. Takes place during episode 3x16 Elephants Memory. Continues in The Journal of Sara Reid. Half sister. Reviews appreciated. OC.


_Takes place during Episode 3x16, Elephant's Memory. I hope you enjoy, reviews appreciated. _

A sad soul can kill you quicker – far quicker – than a germ- John Steinbeck.

The young profiler stood up nervously and cleared his throat, turning to face the room. The hall was filled with police officers in uniform, seated at circular tables and every chair turned to the front. The man glanced down at the place card on the table beside him- Beltway Clean Cops, it read. He cleared his throat again and looked over the group.

"My name's uh, Spencer, and I'm uh, I don't really know what I am," He began, a light breeze blowing past him from the open door behind him.

"Hello, Spencer," The officers answered in unison, as they had done for each speaker throughout the evening.

"It's uh, it's my first meeting," He continued, smiling nervously and stuffing his hands in his pockets. He was used to addressing groups of people, especially police officers because of his work, but never in this context.

"Welcome," The officers replied.

"Thank you. I guess I know I had a problem with Dilaudid, but um, I stopped. Ten months ago I stopped. I thought it was over, but recently I've been… your literature uses the term 'craving'… it started like a month ago. A suspect was murdered in front of me, a kid, and I thought that I could save the kid but I couldn't." The officers in the room nodded sympathetically as a loud buzzing sound went through the room. Spencer looked down at his beeper and replaced it in his pocket.

"Sorry," He apologized, and then continued. "I've seen a lot of that stuff before, but for some reason the kid's face has really stuck in my brain. You know, it's really… And I want to forget about him, and I want to escape." The beeper went off again and the profiler checked it this time, the team had a case. "I have to go, I'm sorry," He apologized, hurrying out of the room.

The 27-year-old FBI profiler put the beeper back in his pant pocket and hurried down the walkway towards the parking lot, noticing the stained glass windows of the building as he passed. He was just thinking about the origins of stained glass- they had been in existence since as early as the 7th century- when a voice called out behind him.

"Spencer!"

"Sorry, I'm late," He apologized, turning around.

"Places to go, people to profile," The man said knowingly. Spencer was surprised to recognize SSA John Arnold; he had not noticed him in the meeting. "You know who I am," He stated.

"Of course I do sir, I just, I didn't expect to see a man of your position here," Reid explained apologetically.

"Here there's no 'sir's'. I'm just John. This is not something you talk about at the office, especially our office," He said pointedly.

The beeper buzzed in the younger agent's pocket once again, "Sorry, I really have to go."

"Here, take this," John stopped him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small silver disk. "That's my one year medallion, it took me six years to get it," He explained, handing it to Spencer. "For thirteen years I've never left home without it, because I know if I forget that, I'll lose my gun, my credentials, my house, everything. Hold onto it."

"I only have ten months," Reid reminded him, turning the medallion over in his hand.

"I know."

"It's your most prized possession."

"It is," John agreed.

"You're just giving it to me?" Spencer asked.

"No, in a couple of months when you get your year, you can give it back to me," He explained, turning back towards the doorway.

"I really don't understand," Spencer called after the agent.

"You will," He assured him. Reid looked down at the medallion again and ran his thumb over the surface before placing it carefully in his pocket, promising himself to return it as soon as he could.

"Sorry I'm late," Doctor Reid apologized as he entered the round-table room, setting his well-worn messenger bag on the floor as he sat down.

"I hope she was worth it," Rossi joked.

"I hope it was a she," Morgan grinned, teasing his young friend.

"Sorry, I was at the movies," Spencer lied, ignoring the curious glances he was getting from the rest of his team.

"Oh really, why don't you tell us what it was about?" Agent Rossi asked, easily seeing through the lie, but of course coming to the wrong conclusion. As far as Doctor Reid knew, the rest of the team was unaware of his recovering drug problem, and he wanted to keep it that way. As much as the young agent liked his coworkers, he tried to keep them out of his personal affairs as much as possible.

"Uh, I had to leave early so I can't really…" Reid trailed off; suddenly aware of the odd looks he was getting from the group.

"I know it's late, we're tired, but we've got two dead cops," Said Hotch, the team leader. Reid nodded and opened his manila folder, reading over the details of the case in seconds. Turning his attention over to JJ, he leaned back in his chair and listened to her report, turning over the one year medallion in his pocket.

A few hours later, the young profiler returned to his apartment, determined to get a good night's sleep tonight. The team would be departing for West Bune, Texas. A town that, despite his near-infinite knowledge, the young genius had never heard of. Spencer set his bag down in his front hall and flicked on the lights, reaching into his pocket and turning over the medallion again. He sighed, turned the lights back out, and made his way to his bedroom in the dark. He passed his guest bedroom, which was used primarily for storage. Reid never had guests.

He laid his gun in the bedside table drawer beside his unmade bed and changed into a t-shirt and pajama bottoms before climbing in under the covers. With the exception of the Beltway Clean Cops meeting, this was Spencer Reid's day every day. Get up, work, and go home. Spencer sighed, checked that the medallion was on top of the bedside table where he'd left it, and nuzzled into his pillows, trying not to think of the dead boy's face that haunted his dreams.

_Ring, ring, ring._ Spencer grimaced and sat up in bed, glancing at the clock on his table- seven twenty in the morning. He frowned and reached for the phone that had woken him up ten minutes early, pushing the button labeled 'send'. "Hello?" He answered, slightly irritated.

"Hello, this is Roseanne Zarn from East County Child Protective Services; I'd like to speak to a Mr. Spencer Reid," A woman on the other end of the call replied.

"Doctor Reid, yes this is him," Spencer corrected the woman, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I'm sorry what are you calling about?" He asked, realizing what the woman had said.

"I'm sorry but I need to notify you of a death, do you know of a Laura Ryan?" Roseanne Zarn asked.

Spencer thought for a moment, "No, I don't, are you sure you have the right person?"He asked.

"Your father is William Reid?" Zarn asked.

"Yes," He answered, a scowl forming. The agent stood up and walked down the hall, his feet sliding a little on the hardwood floors.

"William Reid was involved in a relationship with Laura Ryan since early 1996; they owned a house together here in Virginia until 2002. Miss Ryan passed away just under two months ago," She explained.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but how does this involve me?" Spencer asked, sitting down on his small living room sofa.

"Laura Ryan and William Reid had a daughter, Sara Reid. She turned 14 just a few days ago. We have been unable to contact her father, and you are mentioned in Miss Ryan's will, to be notified about Sara's existence. I understand this is probably a shock," Zarn explained.

Spencer didn't answer for a few moments. He leaned back on his couch, running a hand through his hair and taking a breath to calm himself, "I… have a sister? A half-sister?" He asked eventually.

"Yes Doctor Reid, she is currently in a child care facility for girls her age. She has nowhere else to go, and I was wondering if you would consider taking her in. Again, I realize this is very sudden."

Spencer's mind was racing, several hundred questions roaming through his head, "Can you… can you tell me something about her?" He asked quietly, bouncing his leg up and down.

"Of course. I've gotten to know Sara over the last few weeks; she's a very nice girl. She's quiet, smart, she gets excellent grades. She's very well-adjusted, but she hasn't been able to return to school, so we've had her tutored at the facility where she is staying with a few other girls."

Reid took another breath, still processing this information, "How did her mother die?" He asked.

"It was a drug over dose; she took a large mixture of pain medications and anti depressants, Sara found her when she returned home from school." Spencer frowned and got up to return to his room, realizing that he needed to dress for work. He glanced at the medallion still sitting on his bedside table; he felt a sudden surge of guilt.

"I… I'd like to talk about this again, soon, but I need to leave for work…"

"Of course, we can arrange a time for a meeting in person at your earliest convenience. Sara is a very nice girl, I'd like to see her in a home as soon as possible," Zarn answered promptly.

"Alright, well um, thank you for informing me. I will get back to you in a few days," Spencer promised, and hung up the phone, cradling his head in his hands. He couldn't take care of a teenager, it wasn't possible. He knew nothing about kids, and he had hardly any time outside of work. The young agent drew in a breath and looked at the medallion again and shook his head.

Doctor Reid was unusually quiet on the jet, the BAU team noticed. He had seemed withdrawn, more than usual. He had spent most of the plane ride reviewing what he knew about the adoption and foster care system, his feeling of anxiousness and nerves growing as he thought. His sister- half sister- Sara Reid, he knew nothing about her. Fourteen years and he had no clue of her existence.

The young agent followed the others through the dust to the remains of a charred house. "Sherriff Halum, Jenifer Jareau. This is the team, agents Rossi, Hotchner, Doctor Reid, Prentiss and Morgan," JJ introduced the team, pointing to each agent in turn. "We're really sorry for your loss."Reid looked around, only partially listening as he observed the surrounding area.

"The blast was localized here," He commented as the team dispersed. He, Rossi and Prentiss were standing in the ruined kitchen of the house.

"This room's been sealed off, plastic and duct tape on the door frames and windows," Prentiss observed, pointing to a burnt doorway.

"Gunpowder," Rossi added.

"They found a dozen canisters it says," Said Reid, holding up the report file.

"The concentration of damage puts the canisters right here by the door," Said Prentiss, stepping over to where the back door of the house had once been.

"He seals the kitchen, blows out the pilot light, trapping the gas in here near the primary charge. If she was here, between the charge and the window-" Rossi said, piecing together the events of the night of the murder.

"Boom. Rod Norris ends up in the tree, Jordan ends up in the field," Prentiss finished for him.

"They didn't care about the rest of the house though, they were trying to focus the blast on whoever came through the door," Spencer continued.

"Yeah, but what was the trigger?" Asked Rossi.

"Rod Norris, he was a smoker," Prentiss answered for them, holding up the remains of a cigarette box.

"They knew he'd be coming though this door."

"And they knew he'd be smoking when he did it," Spencer finished.

An hour later, Spencer followed Hotch and Morgan, along with Sheriff Halum into the Savage residence. Despite his best efforts, Doctor Reid had been unable to shake the phone conversation of the morning from his mind.

"How did she die?" Hotch was asking. Reid stopped to look at a photo of Lou Savage in a Marine uniform.

"Drunk driver in '02, Lou was in Afghanistan," The Sheriff answered. 2002, the year his father had left Laura Ryan and Sara, Spencer thought, unable to stop thinking about the call.

"How long was Lou in the Marines?" Morgan asked, looking around the house.

"Twelve years, he was discharged to take care of Owen."

"Is that why he resented them?" Spencer asked, returning from the kitchen.

"Pardon?" The Sheriff asked, looking mildly offended.

"Did Lou blame his wife and son for ending his career?" Spencer asked, making more observations of the house. "Not a single photo of his dead wife or his only son in his entire house," He added harshly.

"I know this is hard, and if we had more time we'd be more sensitive, but we don't" Hotch explained, walking towards the Sheriff who still looked irritated.

"Hope was the drunk driver, I didn't write it up that way, but it didn't matter. Her drinking was no secret in town," The Sheriff confessed.

"Where's Owen's room?" Spencer asked, walking into the hallway and locating it quickly. Normally he would begin a thorough search immediately, but he had to stop and think. Owen's mother had been killed by her addiction, and now her son might be the unsub. Once again, Spencer's thoughts returned to his sister, and he felt a sense of guilt twinge in his heart.

"Gun safe is empty," Morgan announced, walking into the room and looking around.

"Is that a surprise?" Reid asked, turning away from the poster he had been looking at absently.

"That's James Dean's Porsche, no pictures of James Dean though, that's a bad sign," Morgan commented, looking over Spencer's shoulder at a poster of a wrecked car.

"Especially when your mother died in a car accident," Spencer agreed. "I still haven't found the father of the year award," He murmured.

Morgan looked at Spencer skeptically, becoming increasingly aware of his young colleague's agitated tone, but did not address it. "Already check his computer?" He asked, gesturing to the desktop.

"Password encoded," Spencer replied, inspecting Owen's bedside table and dresser top.

"Smart move if your Dad's a cop," Morgan nodded, continuing his survey of the room.

"Assuming he cares enough to snoop," Spencer said, standing up straight.

"Hey Reid, check yourself. That Sheriff out there wanted to take your head off, and Hotch might have let him," Morgan reprimanded him. Spencer didn't react; he hid his embarrassment and turned to another area of the room as his colleague began searching Owen's dresser. "The clothes are all black."

"Same here," Spencer agreed, opening the closet door.

Morgan glanced at the poster above the desk, "Just like his friend Johnny Cash. So Owen identifies with being the misunderstood loner, you know I wish all our unsubs would just hang their profiles on the wall like this for us."

"That doesn't mean anything, you grew up in Chicago, a high school jock, you have pictures of Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan all over your walls, trophies everywhere," Spencer argued, irritated.

"Yeah, but you forgot Walter Payton, not to mention the sexy ladies of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues," Morgan smiled.

"But I bet you didn't paint your mirrors black," Reid muttered, noticing a spray painted mirror attached to the inside of the closet door.

"I guess Owen didn't like what he saw."

Throughout the next few hours, the youngest profiler's attitude hadn't improved, and in the meantime Owen had killed three more people. After a reprimand from Hotch, Spencer returned to the Savage house and was sorting through the emails in Owen's computer, thoughts of parental responsibilities and his own high school experiences weighing heavily on his mind.

"Reid," Said Morgan, sitting down heavily on Owen's bed. Spencer tore himself from the screen and turned to face him. "You know you're not the only one that identifies with him. You said I was a high school jock, I was, but not at first. My freshman year I was 5'3," Morgan confessed, drawing raised eyebrows from his companion. "I weighed a buck twenty soaking wet, so believe me when I tell you; I got my ass kicked every day. So the following summer I hit the weights, and I got lucky, I grew six inches. But it was never about vanity, Reid. It was about survival."

Spencer cleared his throat uncomfortably, recalling a day he had long wanted to forget as though it were yesterday, "I was in the library, and uh, Harper Hillman comes up to me, and she tells me that Alexa Lisbin wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Lisbin is like, easily the prettiest girl in school."

"So what happened, Alexa wasn't there?" Morgan asked, leaning forward on his elbows to hear.

"She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching."

"And nobody tried to stop them," Morgan concluded, looking sadly at his friend.

Spencer shook his head no, "I begged. I begged them to but they just watched… and finally they got bored and they left. It was like midnight when I finally got home, and my Mom didn't," He blinked hard, his eyes stinging even at the memory, "Mom was having one of her episodes so she didn't realize I was late."

"You never told her what happened?"

"I never told anybody. I thought it was one of those things if I just didn't talk about it I'd forget, but I remember it like it was yesterday," He confessed, his voice breaking.

Morgan sighed sadly, "Reid you don't need an eidetic memory for that. You know, we forget half of what they teach us in school, but when it comes to the torment and the people who inflicted it, we've all got an elephant's memory."

"I want just once to forget, to know what that's like."

Morgan shook his head again and gestured to the computer screen, "He's been making a big deal of saying goodbye to Jordan in all of his emails, and none of its shorthand," He said, turning the conversation back to the job at hand. "That's odd."

"He never got a chance to say goodbye to his mother, abandonment is his biggest fear, that's why he chose Jordan, he thinks she'll never leave," Spencer realized, looking back at the screen.

"They think he's going to his mother's grave," Said Spencer, tearing a paper off the board and handing it to Jordan. The case would almost definitely end with Owen's death by cop, and he did not want to see another teenager killed.

"Isn't he?" Prentiss asked, watching her colleague with interest.

"He was gone when we got to the ranch, I want to save his life and I need to ask you a question. This necklace, he gave it to you?" He asked the frightened girl, pointing to the necklace in the picture of Hope Savage.

"I left it at the ranch," She answered, touching the place where it would have been on her neck.

"He's coming here," Reid confirmed, hurrying towards the Sherriff Department door.

"What makes you think he'll come here?" Prentiss asked, following Spencer out into the light of the street.

"It's what I would do," He answered as a young man in a black trench coat appeared at the corner. "Prentiss, cover me," He said, handing his gun to her.

"What? Reid?" She called after him frantically, pulling out her gun as she too spotted Owen, carrying a large gun.

"Don't shoot," He commanded, heading straight for the armed teenager. "Owen," He called, raising his hands, "I don't have a gun. My name is Spencer, I'm with the FBI, and I'm here to help you."

"Yeah, well stay back," Owen snarled as a black SUV came roaring to a halt down the street.

"I know the only reason you joined the team was for your father, I know that he blamed you for what happened," He continued his approach, staying firmly between Owen and the other agents.

"Stay back! Stay where you are!" Owen shouted angrily, jerking the gun towards Reid.

"I also know you only killed Rod Norris and Kyle Borden to protect Jordan. I know the harder you tried, the worse it got, and everyone was watching you suffer, not a single person would even try to help," He said, desperate to save him.

"They didn't!"

"I know you want to escape, and forget, and believe me when I say I know exactly how that feels. You know what? You don't have to die," Spencer continued, moving more to block the agent's line of fire.

"No, no I'm already dead."

"No, no you're not dead, if you die you're going to leave Jordan, just like your mother left you. I know you don't want that, do you?" He reasoned with Owen, seeing that his words were beginning to take effect.

Owen began shaking his head, "No. Ok you bring her outside, alright, you bring her outside."

"I can't do that, but if you put the gun down, I swear I will take you to her," Reid promised, he knew this was his last chance. "I promise nobody will hurt you. You'll say goodbye to her and you'll give her the necklace. Alright, you what do you say? Let's put the gun down."

Owen, now near tears, reluctantly lay the gun at Spencer's feet, looking at every agent's gun trained on him . Derek and Hotch ran over as soon as the weapon was on the pavement, "Don't move!" Morgan shouted, pulling out his handcuffs.

"It's all over," Rossi called over the sirens of the approaching police cars, "It's ok."Spencer and Derek led Owen inside to a tearful Jordan, and handed her back the necklace before leading Owen away.

Doctor Reid sat alone on the jet home, JJ and Morgan had dozed off, and Rossi and Prentiss were engrossed in their respective reading materials. "You knowingly jeopardized your life and the lives of others," Hotch said sternly, sitting down across from his younger colleague and clasping his hands together in front of him. Spencer nodded sullenly. "I should fire you. You're the smartest one in the room but you're not the only one in that room. You pull something like this again and you will be, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Reid nodded, "It won't happen again. Thank you."

"What were you thinking?" Hotch asked, his expression softening.

"I was thinking that... that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me."

"Keeping score, like Owen," Hotch pointed out.

"It was my turn to save one," Spencer smiled.

"It doesn't work like that," The elder smiled a bit, shaking his head.

"It should," Reid said, looking down at the medallion in his hand.

"I know it's painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy."

Spencer glanced across the table at his boss, "Then what's that make me?"

"Good at the job," Hotch stood up to return to his original seat, "I know it's none of my business, but when we land, I think you should catch the rest of that movie." So he knew. Spencer nodded and turned the coin over again in his hand.

"Hey, Hotch," He called after the profiler as quietly as he could, so as not to wake Morgan and JJ just on the other side of the seats.

"Yeah?" Hotch asked, returning to where Reid was sitting.

"You're a father, and I uh, need to ask something," Spencer said nervously, rubbing the medallion with his thumb.

"What is it Reid?" Hotch asked, looking at the young man curiously.

"I, uh, I got a call from Child Protective Services, and it turns out that my father had another kid with someone else, Laura Ryan. Laura Ryan died a few months ago, and I only found out today, they split up a few years ago, and their daughter, my sister, has nowhere to go."

"You're thinking of taking her in?" He asked with genuine interest.

"I am. I keep thinking about feeling guilty, um, if I don't, and how expensive and time-consuming it would be, and that I really don't know anything about taking care of a teenage girl-"

"Reid," Hotch cut in, "There's one thing that you really need to think about here, and it's not the money or knowing how to raise a kid. It's whether or not you want a family."

That night Doctor Spencer Reid returned to his apartment, turned on the lights in the front hall way, and set down his bag. He sniffed once, walked to his tiled kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He took a sip, grimaced, and dumped the rest of the glass down the drain- spoiled- he'd have to go to the store soon. Feeling the medallion in his pocket again, he set it on the kitchen table and leaned across the counter to pull the phone off the wall. He dialed, pressing hard on the well-worn buttons, and waited.

"East County Child Protective Services," Was the answer on the other end.

"Hello, this is Doctor Reid, I was wondering if I could speak to Roseanne Zarn, or is it too late tonight?"

"This is she, hello Doctor Reid, no it's not too late, I'm usually here all night doing paperwork. I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon," Roseanne replied, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"I really didn't expect to call back so soon either."

"So have you come to any kind of decision, Doctor?" The woman asked hopefully.

"I have. I… would like to meet her first, but I want to help. I'd like to apply for custody and take her in."

We cross our bridges when we come to them, and burn them behind us with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke and a presumption that once our eyes watered - Tom Stoppard

_I hope you enjoyed, if you want to read the rest of the story, you might enjoy The Journal of Sara Reid. Thanks!_


End file.
